I’m in the middle of the Fishtrap Writers’ Conference at Wallow Lake (and eastern terminus of the Blue Mountains Trail!) and am absolutely blown away by the level of writing, quality of people, and depth of community I’m finding out here. I want to write more about the week, and the multi-stop trip I took to get here, but first I want to share a bit of one of today’s writing prompts. I’m in workshop with the incredible Ana Maria Spagna where daily she takes us through a variety of thought experiments and writing exercises…one building on the other as each day progresses.

Now I’ve written from writing prompts before, they were usually grudgingly typed out in my home office, alone, and was unimpressed with my efforts: usually lack-luster and boring. Why was it different this time? Well, I’m in a room with ten other writers and we are given a time limit. It’s amazing what a little pressure will do, along with the desire to show up in a room with such accomplished writers. Also, it’s day three of the workshop, so we’ve all started to show a bit of our soft underbelly. This may seem odd to you as I’ve been all soft underbelly since my cancer diagnosis 18 months ago, but when in public, with new people, I’m not usually the first one to jump up and say: “Hey, I’m dealing with cancer, it’s all I’ve been writing about lately.” Instead, I lead with the hiking stuff.

I started sharing more at the end of our time yesterday, but today when given the hermit crab prompt, I enjoyed trying to only show a bit of underbelly. Just a glimpse.

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Tea

1992

My mom brews up a mug of tea and I shake my head and fake puke when she asks if I want a cup. “Tastes like dirt” I reply.

1999

All the villagers drink tea, and take great pride in pouring it elaborately. I mean, they pour from two feet up in the air! The brown stream is expertly aimed from one small glass cup into another. They say the hight helps mix the sugar. I can’t refuse their gift; that would be rude. When I try to pour, none goes in the other cup. They laugh.

2007

The office packs lipton tea bags into our resupply. I had to drink it, I mean, I should drink it; it was carried into the backcountry on horseback for goodness sake! I had to be grateful for anything to break up the monotony of warm-water bottle water. Oh yeah, there were definitely BPAs in those old Nalgene’s, especially when we made sun tea and soaked those bags all day in those plastic bottles.

2015

Why didn’t anyone tell me there were herbal teas that tasted like mint and lemon? Yes please. I can finally move away from the dirt.

2020

A little dirt is ok…and it goes down easier in something like a green tea that is mixed with ginger or tumeric. I read that it’s good for me, a scrap of hope in these eternal COVID times? And I think I’m finally used to the earthy taste. I should be, geez, I’m enough of a dirtbag.

2025 – Spring

Now I’m supposed to drink as much green tea as possible. My naturopath tells me to drink at least two cups a day; but more is fine too. “It has immune strengthening properties,” she says. “As if that will make a difference,” I think. 

2025 – Summer

Friends send me green tea now. My shelves are overflowing with the stuff. Word got out that I can’t drink right now, and so red wine is off the list. Tea will never be a substitute for a big, bold red, but the Japanese rice-based tea that Margo sent is ok…

2026

Mom found the green tea I left behind on my last visit and brewed a cup. “Uggg,” she said. “I don’t know how you can drink the stuff.”